


Six Times Logan Echolls Got Wet

by BryroseA, CarolineShea, Ghostcat, kmd0107, marshmallowtasha, SilverLining2k6



Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Female Gaze, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Prompt Fic, Veronica Mars Holiday Gift Exchange 2014, Wet Henleys, the last two chapters contain MKAT spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 10:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3689382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BryroseA/pseuds/BryroseA, https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarolineShea/pseuds/CarolineShea, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostcat/pseuds/Ghostcat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmd0107/pseuds/kmd0107, https://archiveofourown.org/users/marshmallowtasha/pseuds/marshmallowtasha, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverLining2k6/pseuds/SilverLining2k6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>aka: The Wet Henley Chronicles</p><p>Six stories in which we probably give Logan Echolls pneumonia, inspired by the movie's infamous wet henley. Set variously across the series and post-MKAT.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Water, Water, by BryroseA

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aureliainwonderland](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=aureliainwonderland).



> A very belated gift fic for **aureliainwonderland** from some of the late night members of the VM Rewatch crew. Your prompt suggestion of "Logan wet in his henley" caught our, er, attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Setting: Summer after Season 1

**Water, Water**

by BryroseA

* * *

 

Logan may think he’s slick, with his quick cover ups about Pan High and killing the grass on their football field, but Veronica Mars can see right through the lie of petty vandalism to the potential for real criminal acts beneath.  

_Does he even remember who he’s dating?_

Okay, so she’s been kind of avoiding anything remotely resembling detecting this summer, but that doesn’t mean that she’s gone blind.

She could just let it go, but…no, she can’t. Even she is not that committed to normalcy. Later that night, sitting in the cold front seat of her LeBaron and watching while Logan and his toadies tote their gas cans over the fence of the Neptune Community Center, she feels a welling anger that tells her she never will be.

_This is decidedly not normal, boyfriend of mine. What the hell are you up to?_

Veronica rummages around in the backseat, locating the partially buried duffle bag filled with supplies she’d never quite gotten around to returning to her father’s office.

She lays her hands on the familiar smooth shapes of the bullhorn and fake siren and smiles grimly.

Ten minutes later, Veronica snickers to herself as the boys scatter in all directions. The big, lumbering shape she knows is Dick curses lustily as he is momentarily held up when a decorative loop on his cargo shorts snags on the fence, but the others make a clean break of it. She can’t exactly make out all of their faces, but there is definitely one key player who is missing.

_Maybe he left a different way._

She sighs internally as she pulls on the parking brake and shoves open the door. One way or another, she needs to check. Make sure that Logan didn’t leave behind any incriminating evidence— _the asshole_.

One surprisingly easy fence scramble later, Veronica lands lightly in the courtyard of the Community Center. She makes her way stealthily through the shrubbery that lines the pool deck, deliberately keeping a low profile and scanning across the grounds until she spots—

_Dammit, Logan._

He stands at the edge of the pool with his back to her. The underwater lights are on, making the pool glow an almost neon shade of aquamarine and Logan, in his snug t-shirt and well-fitting jeans, is silhouetted as he surveys the water. It would almost be a beautiful sight—the long lean lines of his body backlit—if it weren’t for the gas cans resting on the pool deck by his feet.

Her rage bubbles up again. Dick, Beaver, Enbom and Rams were all scared off by the siren, driven to run fast and far away by their instinct for self-preservation and their fear of getting caught. But not her boyfriend. No. He’s such a dumbass with a death wish that he’s come back to the scene of the crime.

Then Logan glances down and prods the gas can with the toe of his sneaker.

_He’s still thinking about doing it!_

Veronica doesn’t even really feel herself moving forward; all she sees are her own two hands filling her field of vision as they plant themselves firmly in the center of Logan’s back and push. Hard.

Logan tips forward into empty space, his mouth open in shock, arms windmilling comically. At the last minute, he twists his body agilely in the air so that he goes in back-first, landing in the pool with a large splash and immediately sinking out of sight.  

After stepping out of the way of the wave that froths over the edge of the pool, Veronica moves forward and peers down into the water. Logan, still stunned, is submerged face-up in a spread eagled position. For a brief moment he seems to hang suspended and motionless in the glowing water, his face fixed in an attitude of surprise, a trio of bubbles glubbing up from his mouth to the surface. The hem of his t-shirt floats up his torso, dancing in the ripples. Then he blinks and his eyes meet hers through the water. The animation returns to his body and he drags his arms together vigorously, forcing himself down to the bottom of the pool, where he pushes off with his feet.

He pops to the surface about six feet away from the edge.

“Veronica,” he sputters, coughing, “what the hell!?”

She shakes her head and holds up one hand in a negating gesture. “Don’t even try it, Logan.”

He’s treading water, legs working harder than normal to keep him afloat against the drag of his waterlogged jeans and sneakers.

“What? Is this some sort of weird mating ritual?” He shakes his head vigorously and starts to make his way across the pool to where she stands. “I’ve got to tell you, I’m not terribly turned on right now.”

“I said,” she looks him dead in the eye and his indignant splashes quiet, “don’t even try.” Logan stills as the coldly serious tone of her voice registers. The tension in the air thickens and she kicks the red gas container. “Talk.”

He meets her glare with a winsome smile. _Oh yes, the boy has teeth._

“Talk? About what, pray tell? I’m at the lady’s pleas—”

“No, Logan.”

He drops the act abruptly, “What do you want me to say, Veronica?”

She sarcastically taps her chin with an index finger. “How about…Veronica I’m _not_ being a complete jackass and elevating this insane class warfare thing by _burning down the public pool_.”

He makes a frustrated noise. “You don’t understand, it’s—it’s—I can’t let them think that it’s okay to just go around _shooting_ at you!”

“Do _not_ make this about me!” They glare at each other. “Logan, I know that things have been going back and forth between you and the PCHers all summer. I’ve been trying to ignore it, let you get it out of your system, but this…burning down the public pool…it’s really, truly _shitty_ of you. It’s like you’re turning into the evil villain from some 90s Teen Disney show.” Against her will, her voice drops, becomes softer, more vulnerable. “I don’t like it.”

His jaw is still set mulishly, but Veronica takes a deep breath in. “I need this to stop. Now. I can’t be with you when you’re like this.”

Logan rears back in the water, his face registering shock and anger and fear. “What the hell is this, some kind of ultimatum?” He slaps the surface, emotions flooding out of him in a practically visible wave as he yells. If they were on dry land, his rage might be intimidating, but given the fact that he’s having to hold up his waterlogged pants with one hand while he gesticulates furiously with the other, it loses a little of its gravity. Blind to the indignities of his position, Logan, still treading water feverishly, continues, “My mom is dead! My dad is a murderer! My girlfriend is dead! And now the only pers—“

“Hey!” Veronica is truly hurt. “Dumbass! _I’m_ your girlfriend.”

In his surprise, Logan’s legs momentarily lose their rhythm, sending him plunging downward.  He spits out a stream of water as he regains his balance. “I didn’t mean…I know that.” His voice is quieter now, too, and she can see the fear swiftly overtaking the anger.

They stare at each other across the expanse of water. In the dim lighting, his eyes are black and intense, as they lock onto hers. A bead of water drips down from Logan’s forehead, trickling across his cheekbone. It shouldn’t be possible to be simultaneously this angry at him and this attracted to him, should it?

“I love you, Veronica.” It’s part plea and part challenge and it melts her just as much as it freaks her out.

Veronica squats and reaches down to run her fingers through the water, staring at the ripples she’s creating as she asks, softly. “Look, if I let you out of the pool can we talk about this? Just _talk_ , without going all nuclear?”

She chances a look up at him and he nods solemnly. Veronica sighs, holding out her hand, palm open in invitation. Logan paddles smoothly to the side of the pool and hoists himself up out of the water, wet clothes and all, in one swift movement.

He moves to stand in front of her, water sloughing off of him in sheets. She’s still angry. Totally still angry. Not distracted at all by the way his soaking wet t-shirt molds itself to the curves and valleys of his body. Or by the look in his eyes that’s that familiar combination of tender and fiery. Or by—she brings her eyes quickly back up to his face.

“Come on. Let’s get you some dry clothes. You’re freezing.” She darts a meaningful glance down to where his nipples stand out, hard, against the thin fabric of his shirt.

“That’s not cold,” he mutters. Her eyes widen and he maneuvers in closer to her, carefully angling himself to keep his sopping wet body from touching hers as he kisses her with sweet desperation. Veronica breathes in the sharp smell of chlorine and the warm ache that is Logan.

As she starts to lean in to him— _water be damned_ —he pulls back and cups her face between chilled hands.

“You freaked me out a little there, Veronica…I thought you were breaking up with me.”

She just looks at him, weighing the words swirling around in her head, _not today_ , and _don’t make me_ and _no, never, I’m never letting you go_ , but settling instead on, “Come on, jackass. Let’s go home and have that talk.”

 

 


	2. Straight Out of the Water, by CarolineShea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Setting: Summer before Hearst

**Straight Out of the Water**

**by[caro-shea](http://caroline-shea.livejournal.com) (aka: [CarolineIsThine](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/1980611/CarolineIsThine))**

* * *

 

It's nearing midnight and they're lying in bed, floating in that hazy space between sleep and awakeness.  
  
"We should do things like this more often," murmurs Logan, barely suppressing a yawn as he tightens his arms around Veronica. It's a rare respite for them; a night when Keith Mars is away chasing bail jumpers and Veronica and Logan can enjoy a night of privacy in her bedroom.   
  
"Do things...like what?" she asks drowsily.  
  
"Things that fall somewhere in the realm of normal," answers Logan, his voice half-muffled from where his head is curled into the pillow. "Movies. Dinner. Unsanctioned sleepovers."  
  
"We went to that, uh..." Veronica gestures tiredly before letting her hand flop back down to the bedspread. "...that pan-Asian restaurant with the weird name last week."  
  
"Veronica," groans Logan. "That was for a case. You spent half of the meal trying to bug the coatroom and I spent the other half in the bathroom trying to snag a DNA sample from a Vietnamese businessman."  
  
"We walked around downtown and went to that cute little bike shop a few weeks ago."  
  
"You were trying to match tire marks that were linked to a crime scene, Veronica."  
  
"Well, some of us do have to work for a living, you know," she huffs as Logan runs a placating hand up and down her arm.  
  
"Hey, hey... easy," he says. "You know I don't mind our detective work dates. I like anything that lets me spent time with you. I'm just - glad we get to do stuff like this, too." Logan can almost feel the tension slowly drain from Veronica's back and shoulders. Encouraged, he reaches forward and strokes her hair, smoothing it gently back from her face. "Spending time alone. Relaxing under the blankets. Listening to the rain."  
  
"Yeah," agrees Veronica quietly, letting out a slow breath as her eyelashes slowly flutter closed-  
  
-and then snap open in the next second.  
  
"Wait," she says, sounding alert and more than a little concerned. "Rain? _What_ rain?"  
  
Logan pauses and says, "well-" before shutting his mouth abruptly. Balboa County is currently experiencing one of the worst droughts in the last half-century. The weather forecasters have been bemoaning the lack of precipitation daily.   
  
This fact does not account for the unmistakable sound of running water, which - now that he's more awake - sounds less like a rainstorm and more like someone taking a shower in Veronica's supposedly empty apartment.   
  
Logan's heart knows a moment of terror at the idea of Keith Mars returning home unexpectedly, but-   
  
"Oh, crap," says Veronica fiercely, all but launching herself out of bed and out the door.   
  
Logan follows immediately, bolting after her and nearly tripping over the hem of his pajama pants in the process. Her voice reaches him first:  
  
"I knew it! It's the damned shower, Logan. _Again_."  
  
Logan stops short at the sight that greets him when he reaches the apartment's bathroom: A somewhat damp and very harassed-looking Veronica standing in the middle of the room. She is scowling with her arms folded across her chest as the leaking silver pipe connected to the showerhead splatters water all across the tub and tile floor.  
  
"It looks like the screw on the pipe came loose; that's what happened last time. I don't suppose," she says ruefully, "that you've fixed leaky pipes before? I've seen my dad do it enough times that I get the general idea but..."  
  
"Uh... no, sorry," says Logan, reddening a little at his own uselessness. If he ever experienced anything like this at the Grand, he'd be phoning the maintenance staff immediately. Growing up, he would have simply shouted for the nearest housekeeper.  
  
"Well," says Veronica, eyeing the leak warily, "I suppose there's a first time for everything."  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Logan has faced many disappointments in his young life. Though this hardly ranks as one of the greatest, he has to admit that he'd hoped his first time getting wet in a shower with Veronica would look a little different than this. At the moment, he's supporting her upper body as she balances on the lip of the bathtub, tightening the loose screw with a wrench.  
  
"Don't you - shit!" hisses Logan as the pipe spurts a jet of cold water directly at his chest and neck, "don't you have a guy for this?"  
  
Veronica throws him an amused glance over her shoulder, her sodden hair whipping around her shoulders as she turns her head. "I have a guy for black-market auto parts. I have a guy who can trace the source of most recreational drugs marketed at Neptune High and the surrounding high schools. I have a guy who will fix any of my bugs or GPS trackers for free, no questions asked, in exchange for my silence on a rather _touchy_ topic. I have a guy who will translate Mandarin for me, a guy for discount designer shoes, and a guy with access to all the shipping containers coming in and out of the harbor. I do _not_ ," she says, grunting with the effort of turning the wrench, "have a guy that will come to my apartment at 12:18 in the morning to fix my - _oof_ \- shower."   
  
Logan snorts. "Well, clearly you need better contacts because none of those people are any good to us right now." He pauses. "You have a guy for shoes?"  
  
"Yep," replies Veronica cheerfully. "Giovanni. And - oh, I think I did it! Logan, check if you can twist it any further."  
  
"That’s what she said," says Logan with a salacious leer, lifting Veronica down and depositing her gently onto the bath mat. Veronica rolls her eyes and smirks at him.  
  
Unlike Veronica, Logan doesn't have to step onto the edge of the bathtub to reach the pipe. He twists the wrench as far as he can, and finds that he's very impressed with Veronica's strength - it only moves an additional half-inch or so.   
  
"I think we're good," he informs her.   
  
"Well, some of us might be," she replies. "But personally? My clothes are drenched, I'm freezing, and I feel disgusting."  
  
Logan taps his chin thoughtfully. "If only there were something in this room that would make you feel cleaner and warmer."  
  
"Hmm," says Veronica, swiveling her head exaggeratedly to stare at the newly-fixed shower.  
  
"You want me to mop up the floor while you rinse off?" he asks.   
  
"Or," says Veronica suggestively, dragging her eyes appreciatively over Logan's wet torso.  "Even better idea - why don't you take one, too?"  
  
Logan gasps, placing a hand over his heart in mock horror. "Why, Veronica Mars. Have you not heard that we're currently experiencing a drought?"   
  
Veronica pretends to consider this. "Well, in _that_ case... we really should share the shower, shouldn't we? Purely in the interests of conservation, of course."  
  
"Of course," echoes Logan with conviction.  
  
And although shimmying out of wet clothes is a lot sexier in the movies than it is in reality, kissing with a cascade of warm water falling around them is even more arousing than expected. And by the time Logan has Veronica's legs wrapped his waist and her back against the tile, he's happy to concede that their first shower together blows any expectations he might have had _straight_ out of the water.   
  



	3. Tell Me More, by Ghostcat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Setting: Summer before Hearst

**Tell Me More**

**by Ghostcat**

 

* * *

 

 

A few kites, bow-tails bright in the sky. Three people with dogs. Several swimmers in wet suits.

Neptune's Ohls Beach was quiet for a summer Friday. The wind blew briskly, unusually so for mid-summer. The car window felt pleasantly cool against Veronica’s forehead.

_”She was a cold woman.”_

Oh dear lord, she thought, not another Logan Echolls soft porn narration.

_”The kind of cold that makes the lungs feel like crinkled-up paper every time you sit nex—”_

“Why do I feel like we're about to have a flashback to one of your purple prose romance novel reveries?”

Logan was taking a remedial writing summer term class at her urging. Never too early to get his credits going before starting freshman year at Hearst. Veronica stole a glance over her shoulder at him. He grinned, tapping a pencil to his lips, then tilted his head to bite it.

“I'm a natural born storyteller. I know what the people want to hear,” he said, throwing the pencil in the air, catching it, then tapping the eraser end on the dash in 4/4 time.

_Show off._

She narrowed her eyes. “Did you steal that from the office when you came by yesterday?”

“Not stolen, Veronica. Borrowed.”

“ _Stolen_.”

Veronica snatched the pencil from him. “Look at these,” she said, pointing to the indentations. “Gnaw marks.”

Logan shrugged, leaning in for a kiss and snatching the pencil back instead, flirtatiously impish smile in place. “I'll replace it, sugarplum.”

She glanced at the notepad on his lap, it had one word on it _—_ _vicious_ , written in Logan's surprisingly neat script. Veronica shook her head and resumed her lookout. “Better hope my dad doesn't notice. He gets very attached to his #2s.”

“So what happened to the flowers you sent the old bat?”

His hand was warm on her knee.

“She didn't accept them. Or the chocolates. She’s being very careful. I get the sense that this isn’t her first time covering up for Junior.”

“And this is the next step, slipping a bug in her purse?”

Fingers slid up to her thigh. _Note to self: never wear shorts around Logan. Never, ever._  

“She won't have a purse, but she'll have her three-legged dog, Bendix.”

“You're gonna bug a three-legged dog?” Logan’s laugh was a startled wheeze. “Wow, that’s… that’s…”

“Underhanded? Mercenary?” She leaned towards him, raising an eyebrow. “Ingenious?”

He smiled, and scratched the back of his head. “How?”

“I'll put a teeny tiny bug on his collar.”

Veronica carefully pulled out two small surveillance bugs from her front jacket pocket. They sat in the palm of her hand like a pair of silver dot candies. Logan picked one up, inspecting it on the tip of his finger.

“Aren’t they cute? I figured out how to put a small adhesive on them without harming the device. Who’s awesome?” Veronica kissed her biceps with loud smack.

Logan turned the device over. “Kind of labor-intensive.”

“I told you, she’s skittish. Besides, we don't have the manpower to follow her around all the time and wait for her to slip. Doing this is a shortcut— just another way for the pros to get information. Like, let's say Ms. Marion Peters mentions something in passing, some seemingly small, innocuous piece of information, like, 'I love Lake Tahoe! Such good Italian restaurants!'— my dad and I can follow up on it, see if her precious baby boy cum embezzler is hiding out up there, gorging himself on gnocchi and greed.”

Logan’s fingers drifted over to a piece of thread dangling from her jacket. He pulled it out with a quick yank, his hand waving the errant thread away. It fell slowly to a spot by her sandals. He inched closer. “It doesn't seem like a foolproof plan.”

“No,” she said, adjusting her rearview mirror. “But that's why this is just one of many. Either way, that thieving son of hers will be found by us.”

He scooted closer still, the car seat squeaking at the movement. His mouth was soft at her ear.

“So is this what you think about when you lie in bed at night? Ways to foil the wicked?”

“Sometimes.” Lately, she’d been thinking of him but she wasn’t gonna tell him that.

His hand slid under her shirt, resting lightly on her ribcage. It felt hot there, like a burn, the kind that didn't exist, because you want to keep it. She elbowed him. “Stop distracting me, it’s nearly showtime.”

Logan sighed, kissed the nape of her neck, and moved away. Veronica closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them, Ms. Peters came wandering into view like a terrible wish. Bendix the schnauzer hopped excitedly ahead of her, pulling at his leash trying to get at the seagulls, who were mostly indifferent to his presence.

She turned and kissed Logan fast on the cheek. He smelled delicious, like sweet moss and pine trees. “Wish me luck.”

Veronica trudged out onto the sand, careful to not make a beeline for position, look too obvious. She rubbed her hand on some of the dog treats she had stored in her camera bag and took photos. Beach scene. Surfer. Seagull. The scent of dog treats. Role playing as an amateur photographer. _Ah, the sexy life of a P.I._

As expected, Bendix went straight to her. She kneeled down to pet him but before she could make contact, Ms. Peters’ Neptune-by-way-of-Da Bronx squawk cut through the air.

“I’ll thank you not to touch my dog.”

 _Pretend you’re hard of hearing, Veronica._  “Oooooh, he’s so cute!” _Crap! Where was the adhesive?_  

The bug slipped from her fingers into the sand. She fished for the other one inconspicuously while continuing to coo at the pooch. The second bug wasn’t in her pocket. Logan hadn’t given it back to her. _Fuck._

“Do not touch, girlie.” Ms. Peters’ eyes were hard little black dots. The violet eyeshadow really brought out the evil.

Bendix pulled away from Ms. Peters, suddenly airborne and free, chasing an errant frisbee with an agility Veronica hadn’t thought possible from a three-legged dog. An agility that led him straight into the ocean, past the foamy shoreline and into the deep, bobbing erratically up and down through the waves.

“Oh nooo, Bendix!” Ms Peters’ hands curled up and covered her mouth. She shouted in a series of shriek-blasts as Bendix got further and further out. “Someone help—”

Unexpectedly, Logan strode past, taking off his hoodie and kicking of his sneakers and socks. He ran into the water and, when waist deep, dove forward, swimming over to the little dog, who was now struggling to stay afloat. He picked Bendix up and the dog frantically licked Logan’s face. The sun was setting behind him and between the light, the happy canine in his arms, the water beading down his face to his lips, and his shirt and pants clinging to him— Veronica thought the world had gone slo-mo.

“My god…” Ms. Peters whispered.

_You said it, sister._

He got out of the water and picked up his hoodie, half-drying/half-wrapping it around the dog.  Logan scratched his neck and Bendix yipped happily, closing his eyes in seeming bliss.

“Excuse me, is this your dog?” Logan’s eyes were large and winsome, they radiated kindness and concern.

“Why, yes, young man. Yes, it is. Bless you.”

Veronica had forgotten all about Sylvia Miles in _Farewell, My Lovely_ standing next to her.

“Here you go.”

He handed off the dog to his mistress, who fluttered her eyelashes hard enough for a corner of them to separate and make for her cheek.

“How can I repay you? Can I buy you dinner?”

“No need, but thank you,” Logan said with a small, sweet smile. He shivered a little.

_Wow, he was good._

“Oh my goodness— you gave Bendix your sweatshirt. Please, let me give it back to you.”

“It’s alright, he can keep it. He deserves it.”

Logan leaned in to give Bendix a final above-the-nose scratch and walked back in the direction of Veronica’s car, his shoulders hunched forward against the wind. She could hear the thick, wet sound of his clothing as he walked.

Ms. Peters waddled off, talking sweet nothings to her pet, still in her arms and wrapped up in Logan’s sweatshirt.

Veronica grabbed a wipe from her camera bag and cleaned her hands with it as she walked. Her boyfriend of roughly one month leaned against her car, legs crossed at the ankle, looking smug the way children look smug when they’ve gotten one over. She went past him to her trunk and opened it, rifling around until she found a clean towel. She held out the towel, white and dark blue, soft and threadbare. When Logan reached for it, she pulled it back.

“If it’s in the hoodie pocket, it won’t take. She’ll probably wash that thing as soon as she gets home.”

Logan stepped closer. His neck was covered in a fine layer of sand like powdered sugar. He gritted his teeth as he smiled. They chattered. He was cold.

She got on her toes and threw the towel over his shoulders and brushed her lips on his cheek. She licked them after, tasting the salt. “You’re shivering.”

“Yeah, that ocean sure has some bite around this time.”

Veronica’s hand went involuntarily to his buttons. The small line of them at the top. She unbuttoned them, slid her hand down alongside, then realized what she was doing. Logan winked, grinning so hard it turned into a full-face squint.

She rolled her eyes. “So that bug—”

“Relax. I put it where you intended it— on his collar. You always underestimate the love dogs have for me.”

“You should take that shirt off,” Veronica said coolly, without any of the horndog desperation she so keenly felt.

Logan peeled off his wet Henley and wrung out it out, the water hitting the concrete of the parking lot with a cheerful splatter. Before she lost her hard won sang froid, Veronica threw a t-shirt at him. It landed on his shoulder.

He held it up to read the lettering and raised his brows. “‘Ay, Caramba’?”

“Don’t ask.”

Veronica grabbed the sopping Henley from the car hood. “Now your pants.”

“Veronica! We’re in a parking lot!” Logan held his hand up to his chest, mock-scandalized. “Fine. Just this once.”

He leaned back on the car, offering himself. Even in an extra-extra-extra large men’s novelty tee, he looked good enough to eat.

“Come on. Wrap the towel around yourself. Yup, over the boxers.”

Logan's eyes went to the right, as if mulling it over, then he wiggle-hopped out of his jeans. Veronica took his wet clothes and shook them out before folding them neatly and placing them in the trunk, which she shut with both hands, a small _oof_ escaping her lips from the effort. Logan was quiet. He just stood there, by the passenger door, wrapped in a towel and looking vulnerable in a way that always got her. She reached for him, rubbing his arms through the threadbare towel.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be warm in no time. We’re going back to the Grand. And we’re going to take a long hot shower. The kind that’s followed by a nap.”

Once he picked up on the implication, his face was priceless— mouth open, cheeks flushed, pupils-expanding. He leaned forward with intent to pounce and Veronica held her hand up.

“Ah. Down, boy. We have all the time in the world.”

“Veronica—”

The want in his voice made her feel giddy. Triumphant. She pulled him down to her, nipped at his bottom lip, then pulled away before he could bite back.

“You need inspiration for your story, buddy, and I aim to provide. What’s the title again?”

“Summer Lovin’.”

Veronica sighed. “Of course it is. Let’s go, Danny Zuko.”

Back in the car, his hand was back on her thigh before they’d even left the beach parking lot. This time she let him keep going. She was quite giving that way, a real saint.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to bryrosea and blithers for looking over all my grammar goofs. Any remaining errors are mine and mine alone.


	4. It Never Rains in Southern California High School Reunions, by mysilverylining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Setting: Immediately post 3x20: The Bitch Is Back and during the Veronica Mars Movie

**It Never Rains in Southern California High School Reunions**

**by mysilverylining**

 

* * *

 

**NOW**

Serendipity.

  1. Yacht owned by the Bishop family.  Scene of Susan Knight’s drowning death.

  2. Knowledge of said yacht becoming available at the most precipitous moment possible.




Knowledge that gives her a reason for staying in Neptune.

The epiphany came last night on the Coronado.

_He’s got a fast car._

_I had a feeling that I belonged._

She’d known when the job offer from Truman Mann - the culmination of years of work - left her feeling cold and trapped.  

When the idea of returning home to her life made her stomach churn and the idea of throwing it all away brought serenity.  

Cradled in Logan’s butter-soft leather seats, hair whipping in the wind, and exchanging glances with the person she’d missed most.  She’d known.  

She can’t go back.  Yet, she doesn’t have a legitimate reason to stay, either.   

She’d asked for a sign and the Universe gave her Serendipity.

It’s a solid lead.  

One yacht.  Four remaining witnesses.  One ex-boyfriend to exonerate.  

The hunt is on, and that old tingle of excitement rises in her belly.  

 

Next steps:  

(1) Get her hands on the police report from Susan Knight’s disappearance.  

(2) Get them alone - Gia and Luke, Dick and Cobb.  

(3) Compare their stories.  Find the liar.

 

So...she should get right on that.  Any second now.  

Okay, so she’s lingering.  But it’s Logan.  And he’s flirting.  A little.  And she’s flirting too.  Also a little.  Not as much as she’d like to.  And he’s wearing that shirt.  That form-fitting, blue henley.  And…

_Holy crap.  Could that possibly be the **same** blue henley?_

It’s not outside of the realm of possibility that he would purchase the same shirt twice - it’s a navy henley, for Pete’s sake.  Not exactly rare.  

On the other hand, Logan is enough of a sentimental sap that it wouldn’t be inconceivable for him to hold on to the same shirt for nine years.  Especially the one he was wearing the last time they spoke.  

 

_**THEN**_

_The rain doesn’t bother her._

_After everything she’s set in motion the past few days, the least she can do is pull her jacket tight and take her punishment like a big girl._

_She rethinks that assessment a block later, when the sky opens up and the rain begins pounding the pavement so hard it bounces._

_She’s still three blocks from home, and already past the strip of boutiques and shoe stores.  The only shelter in sight is a recessed doorway on a brick building half a block ahead._

_She breaks into a jog, skidding  a stop moments later._

_The opening is already occupied - by Logan Fucking Echolls, of all people._

_His mouth falls open, mirroring her own reaction._

_He’s longer and leaner than ever - dark jeans combining with a thermal henley to form a solid column of navy blue.  His drenched shirt clings to his torso accentuating every plane and contour of the body she knows so well and the unbuttoned placket reveals the deep trench dividing his pecs._

_\-- To think I used to ridicule weight-lifting class --_

_With a wry grin, Logan reaches out into the downpour, snags her by the wrist, and tugs her out of the rain._

_“You were just standing there,” he says, by way of explanation._

_“I was shocked to see you.”  She switches to a bad Bogie impression.  “Of all the doorways in all the towns in all the world…”_

_“Yeah, I figured.”_

_Three square feet of shelter for two adults - even slouched against the brick opposite her, he’s too damn close for comfort._

_The glass door to the right of her shoulder is stenciled in gold foil with the names of the building’s occupants - a dental office, a barber shop, an accountant.  The interior lights are out, but Veronica tests it anyway.  Locked._

_Logan’s reflection finger-spikes his wet hair back into place and - with as much hair gel as he uses - it’s likely to stay put._

_She hangs her bag on the doorknob, and peels off her dripping wet pink jacket, giving it a feeble twist._

_Logan’s eyes slide over her bare, goosebump-covered arms and his hands twitch at his sides._

_\-- He has to be thinking what I’m thinking. --_

_Last June.  Freak rainstorm.  Running for his X-Terra._

_Once out of the rain, he’d ignored his own comfort in order to rub the warmth back into her flesh.  Merely an act of love and tenderness on his part, nevertheless, she’d become so aroused that she’d ended up dragging him into the back seat._

_Their eyes meet now, and - maybe to keep busy - he plucks the jacket from her grasp.  She watches his large capable hands wring the extra water from the garment._

_“I’m still mad at you,” she says, unnecessarily perhaps._

_“So you’re saying this wasn’t a social call?”  He hands back the damp jacket, and she hangs that on the knob as well._

_“Hey, you’re the one on the wrong side of town.  Just out for a walk?”_

_He laughs.  “I actually planned to get a Frappucino on the way back, but then the rain started coming down...”_

_She glances across the street and up one block, and sure enough, his Rover is parked at a meter outside of Starbucks._

_How had she missed seeing the truck on the way to vote?  How had she missed HIM?  He isn’t carrying any bags._

_\-- So what’s between this doorway and the community center? --_

_“Nothing new at the video game store?”_

_He grins.  “Nothing worth buying.”_

_She takes in his little white “I voted” sticker, and raises her brows.  “Who’d ya vote for?”_

_“What? Are you the exit poll, now?”  he asks with faux indignance.  “Who do you think?  One man has picked me up for questioning a half-dozen times in the last decade.  The other, will look the other way for a little cash.”_

_Veronica smiles.  “So you ‘Checked Yes for Mars’?”_

_Logan looks away and shrugs with one shoulder._

_Of course he did.  Regardless of his feelings for her father, Logan craves accountability almost as much as he craves love._

_“Why are you voting over here?” she asks._

_“Apparently, there aren’t enough full-time residents of the Grand to bother with zoning us.  They just send us over here to the Community Center._

_“Well, I appreciate you coming out of your way.  Not that it’ll do any good...but thank you.”_

_“Yeah, I saw what they were saying about your dad in the paper.  I’m sorry, Veronica,” he says, all big eyes and honest sincerity._

_She swallows around the lump in her throat._

_\-- My fault --_

_Of everyone, Logan would listen without any judgement.  He would have her back regardless of how wrong she was._

_But how do you maintain a facade of righteous anger towards one person, while explaining how you’ve ruined the lives of several others?_

_She settles for giving him a wan smile._

_His sad puppy eyes make her heart skip, and she looks away._

_It’s always this way with them.  They break up, and Logan becomes more handsome._

_It’s too difficult to look at him dispassionately.  She can’t appreciate the beauty of his eyes without drowning in them.  Can’t admire the long line of his neck without remembering how it tastes under her tongue.  Can’t trace his form with her gaze without wanting to use her hands._

_She exhales.  “So about yesterday...what happened with Gory Sorokin…”_

_“Gory Sorokin?”  He takes a moment to digest the name.  “He seemed tougher when I thought his name was Connected Connected.”_

_“I’m glad you’re amused.”_

_“Sorry.”_

_“Please be careful, Logan.  Don’t get yourself killed.”_

_“Why?  That would solve the ‘out of your life forever’ problem.”  He stares at the bricks overhead.  “No more run-ins in the cafeteria.  Or in the rain.”_

_Veronica grabs his arm so tightly he lets out a yelp._

_“Don’t you even joke about that,” she hisses, getting right up in his face.  “Why didn’t you just listen to me about leaving him alone?”._

_“I don’t care how angry you are at me, or how much you want me out of your life.  I will never EVER stand by and watch somebody hurt you.”  His intense stare sends ripples of excitement through her.  “Neither will your father.”_

_“What does he have to do with it?”_

_“You think I can’t tell that you’re blaming yourself over your dad’s situation?”_

_“Maybe because it IS all my fault?  If I hadn’t been so focused on making somebody pay, they wouldn’t be indicting my father right now.  Wallace wouldn’t have been electrocuted.  Mac wouldn’t be risking the wrath of a secret society, and you…”_

_“Yeah?”  He lifts a brow._

_“You wouldn’t be in danger from a Russian crime family.”_

_“Veronica, knowing how it turns out, every single one of us would do it all over again, to keep you safe.”  Logan’s gaze softens, and he touches her cheek.  “I would do it all over again.”_

_She covers his hand with her own, and leans into his touch.  She’s physically incapable of breaking the eye contact._

_He’s beautiful, and she hasn’t a doubt in the world that he loves her._

_She loves him too.  And really, what else matters?_

_Her throat grows thick and her mouth goes dry._

_\--Why did I want him out of my life again? --_

_Logan lets out a reluctant exhale, drops his hand, and steps back to lean against the bricks.  He glances down and pulls the soaked material of his shirt away from his body, breaking the suction._

_Veronica has an overwhelming desire to smooth it back down again.  She fumbles for a  change of topic.  “New shirt?”_

_\-- You couldn’t have picked a better subject than THAT? --_

_“I got it yesterday.”  He says.  “The tag says it’s my size, but it’s a little too small.”_

_“It really isn’t,” Veronica say.  “Too small, I mean.  Looks just right to me.”_

_He tilts his head and gives her a small smile.  “Yeah?”_

_“Yeah,” she smiles, and takes a step closer.  “In fact, I think all of your other clothes are way too large and should be tossed out immediately.”_

_\-- Why am I doing the flirty voice?  Why am I giving him the seductive eyes? --_

_Logan’s lips twist into a smirk, and by some force of will, he resists his impulse to question if she’s trying to get him naked._

_Good.  She might have answered honestly._

_With the left side of her brain, she starts composing her breakup speech.  She’s not the girl Piz thinks she is.  She rushed in before she was truly ready.  They have different value systems, and he deserves somebody who’s fully committed._

_With the right side of her brain, she maps out what she’s going to do to Logan’s body.  Back seat of the Rover?  No.  Not for this occasion.  Back to the Grand, so that they’ll have all night.  Off with that henley.  A hot shower to warm up cold, clammy skin, and then her lips and tongue and teeth will trace all of the dips and valleys being advertised by that fucking shirt.  She’ll take a page from his book and bring him to the edge over and over before..._

_Logan steps even closer.  His head dips and her her heart pounds as her eyes flutter closed, to wait for his kiss._

_His lips press softly to her forehead, and then he straightens again._

_\-- WHY? --_

_She opens her eyes, and he swipes his thumb across her cheek once more before taking a step back._

_“I’ll see ya around, Veronica,” he says and then moves out into the drizzle._

_“I love you,” she says.  Aloud.  For the first time._

_Logan doesn’t hear over the sounds of traffic  and rain.  He jogs across the street, waving once when he gets to the other side._

_What even was that?  Did he misread her signals?_

_Should she chase after him?  Show up at the Grand later?_

_No.  She has all the time in the world to tell him how she feels.  He’ll be around.  And it’s only right to deal with that breakup first._

 

**NOW**

“Veronica…” Van Clemmons calls after her, and she pauses, turning back.  “It’s been...boring.”

It certainly has.  

Touched, she allows the smallest of smiles and continues ascending the stairs.  

Piz waits on a bench at the top - exactly where she left him when she went in search of ice.  He’s still moaning.   _Milking it for all it’s worth._

A week ago, she would have been amused by his dramatics.  Tonight, she has to bite her tongue to refrain from asking him if he wants a cookie.

_Stop comparing him to Logan, Veronica.  It’s not fair to either of them._

It’s difficult, though, because - wherever Logan is right now - he’s not waiting for a pat on the head.   _However much he might deserve one._

In all of the chaos, she’d missed the opportunity to corner her suspects.  Luckily, she has a backup plan.  

“Want to hit an after party?”  She leans in to examine Piz’s bruise.  Giving him the coddling he so clearly desires.    

“Oh, but I’m having so much fun here.”

If she plays this right, she can get the information she needs without her friends ever realizing she has an ulterior motive.  

Drink a little.  Dance a little.  Clear Logan’s name.  

“Ahh.  I think I’ll skedaddle.”    

She jumps at the sound of Logan’s voice, snapping her hand back to her hip.  

_Speak of the sexy devil, and he shall appear._

_Nope.  You didn’t see me just now touching my boyfriend.  Total figment of your imagination._

He stands to their left, one step down the staircase.  

_Nine years of masterbatory material in one skin-tight, dripping wet, blue henley._

His body is much more defined now, but it is most definitely the same shirt.    

Her breath quickens, and she feels herself flushing all over.  She can’t meet either pair of eyes.

“Probably wise,” she answers, her voice betraying just how flustered she is.  

She’s imagined dozens of times in the intervening years how things might have gone differently. Alternate timelines where she’d kissed him under that overhang.  Or chased him down, to kiss in the rain.  Doing the long-distance thing.  Him visiting her at Stanford.  Her staying the occasional weekend at the Grand.  Eventual cohabitation and domestic bliss.

Wish-fulfillment fantasies that always left her sad and bereft.  And never accounted for military absences.  

“Thanks for jumping in, Piz,” Logan says as he moves past them, towards the exit.  

“Oh, sure.”  Piz’s reply is not exactly gracious.  

And again, she makes that adult-to-child comparison.  Man-to-boy.  He deserves so much better than this.    

She glances over her shoulder, watching Logan walk away.  The wet shirt outlines each shoulder blade, and she has to swallow a moan.

Her left brain begins composing the break-up speech.  Something about meeting her own needs and self-actualization.  Not tonight, of course.  She can’t break up with Piz after he’s flown across the country to be with her.  She’ll give it a few days.  Give it time to slowly creep in, like water at the edges of a paper towel.  

Her right brain is already making plans for Logan’s body.  Where she intends to touch him.  Bite him.  Drag her nails across.  Once he’s been exonerated, of course.  

First she’s going to finish what she started when she hopped that flight to Neptune.  

Then she’s going to finish what she started eleven years ago when she kissed him outside the Camelot.  She has no intention of spending another decade regretting her failure to act.  

And after the way he looked at her in the car last night?  He won’t be putting up much resistance.    

Piz is speaking.  “Is Logan going to be at this after party?”  

“Nope.” 

At least not _this_ one.  

Veronica is on auto-pilot as they collect her bag.  

It’ll be easy enough to get Logan back into that shirt, but how can she get it wet?  

_Turn the hose on him?  Dish washing bubble fight?  Pull him into the surf?  Super Soakers?_

Then again, why choose only one method?  

_Be creative, Veronica.  “Wet Logan Day” has a nice ring to it.  Nothing’s stopping us from making it an annual event._

 

 


	5. Logan’s Duck and Pony Show, by KMD0107

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Setting: Post-MKAT

**Logan’s Duck and Pony Show**

**by KMD0107**

 

* * *

 

Logan woke up to the soft sleep sounds of his two favorite girls.  Veronica was wrapped in his arms, her warm breath puffing against the inside of his wrist, her cheek cupped in his hand.  Pony’s long body was curled into a ball that somehow fit into the crook of Logan’s bent knees.  He was more cramped than in his bunk on ship but he couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be.   _Man it’s good to be home._

Careful not to disturb either of them, a truly acrobatic feat, Logan slipped out into the kitchen and started putting together everything he would need to make pancakes and bacon.  The bright spring sun shone in through the eastern facing windows of their small living room.  It was going to be a beautiful Saturday and Logan had every intention of taking advantage of it.  He had the day all planned out, which in and of itself made him nervous.  Their plans had a tendency to turn into disasters.

As Logan pulled the last of the pancakes off the griddle, he could hear Veronica saying good morning to Pony, and the shuffle of six feet heading his way.

Veronica sleepily stumbled into the living room of _their_ apartment wearing one of his Navy t-shirts and nothing else.  It was near the top of his list of favorite sights.

“Good morning.”  Veronica said, still blinking sleep from her eyes, “Hey, whatcha got there?”  Her face lit up at the short stack and pile of bacon Logan set in front of her.  “Points for effort sailor, but I was hoping for something a bit friskier this morning.”

“I do hate to disappoint.”  Logan untied the ‘never fry bacon naked’ apron he’d been wearing and dropped it to the floor, revealing its necessity.  “Frisky enough for you?”  He winked and moved to grab the hem of the t-shirt she was wearing with one hand and picked her plate up with the other.

He pulled her in close, kissing her forehead, while walking backwards to set her plate in the oven with the rest of the pancakes and bacon.  Both hands finally free, he slid his hands down her ass and to the back of her thighs, putting pressure there to let her know what he wanted.  In response, she lifted her legs to wrap them around his waist.  He pressed her lower back against the doorway of the kitchen and pulled the t-shirt up and off, tossing it aside.   _Now for my favorite sight_ , Logan moaned as Veronica ground her hot core against him.  Kissing her quickly, Logan pulled them away from the doorway and nuzzled into her neck as he walked them back to their bedroom…

After a pleasantly delayed breakfast, they were finally showered, dressed, and fed.

“Are my girls up for a little adventure today?”  Logan watched Veronica, who was sprawled on their living room rug rubbing Pony’s tummy.

Veronica looked up from her task, brow quirked, “That depends, what kind of adventure?”

“The kind where I get some of your undivided attention.”  Logan smirked.

“Hmm, I dunno.   _Undivided_ attention isn’t really my forte.  But I _guess_ it has been almost three months so I’ll make an exception this once.”  Veronica’s eyes sparkled.

 

* * *

 

 _What on earth have I gotten myself into?_  Veronica wondered as Logan drove the BMW up a winding road.  “Logan?  Where are we?”

“You’ll see soon enough.  I promise you’ll like it.”  His eyes remained on the road but Veronica could see the slight rise of his lips.

 _I’ll just bet I’m going to like it._  She thought sarcastically.  She reached down for her messenger bag and pulled out her cell phone.  There were no new messages, calls, or service bars…

“You did this on purpose!”  She exclaimed.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  Logan deadpanned, but Veronica saw that telltale rise of lips as he turned his eyes back to the road.  

“I have no reception.  You knew my phone wouldn’t work here.”  She snapped, throwing the useless phone back in her bag.  She rolled her shoulders, getting ready for a fight.

“Too late now Mars.  I’ve got you where I want you: unable to communicate with the outside world.”  Logan let out a villainous laugh.

Veronica wrapped her arms across her chest.  She did not appreciate that he didn’t tell her there wouldn’t be cell service.  What if they needed her at the office?  She huffed her frustration.

“Alright Echolls you’ve got me where you want me, what’s this all about?”

“We have some decisions to make.”

“ _We?_  What decision do we have to make?”  She asked a little curtly.

“We need to talk about what comes next.”

“What does that mean?”  Veronica turned to glare at Logan and caught sight of their destination.  It was a beautiful little lake full of ducks and geese with what looked like a trail that wrapped around it.  There were a few other cars in the small dirt parking area but she couldn’t see any people as they pulled into the lot.   _He did say he wanted my undivided attention, and Pony is going to love a walk around this lake.  But…_

“It means I have ‘demonstrated leadership qualities that would be suited to promotion.’  And I want to talk to you about it.”

“What does _that_ mean?” Veronica frowned, shaking her head she looked down at her lap, “I don’t know what you want me to say, Logan.  It’s your career; it’s your decision.”

Logan let out a loud breath as he put the car into park, “No, Veronica it isn’t just my decision.  If I re-enlist it impacts both of us.”

“It’s not like you included me in your last career decision.”  She snapped.  “And anyway isn’t that at least a  year away?  Why do we have to talk about this now?” Veronica knew she sounded whiny but this was a conversation she had, more-or-less successfully, avoided for the past year.

Logan turned the ignition off and turned to face her.  His face was creased with new lines and a maturity Veronica was still getting used to.

Logan reached out and traced the line of her cheek gently, “Don’t be like this Veronica.  I know you’re still not happy I chose to go but it was the right thing to do.  And you know it.”  Logan dropped his hand and turned away from Veronica to get out of the sports car.

He was right of course.  They both knew all about making right choices, wrong choices too.  Was it fair to hold this against him still?   _Probably not…_

Veronica could see Logan’s set jaw as he turned around to let Pony out of the back.   _Still able to push each others buttons… check._  Logan turned to put Pony’s leash on; the muscles across his broad shoulders tight under his heather grey henley.

Veronica pushed her door open, “Logan wait!  You’re right.  I just…” Veronica didn’t know how to finish.  “I just… I guess I’m being a bit,” she coughed, “…unreasonable.”  She sighed looking out at the lake.

Logan came around the car with Pony in tow, “Hmm… I don’t know that I’d say _unreasonable_ as much as… evasive, maybe contrary…”

“Flyboys.  Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch.”  She smirked at him.

“You shouldn’t call yourself that,” he smiled and kneeled down to rub Pony’s ears.  “But if you insist, I want you to know you’re _my_ bitch, well my bitches.”

“Hey, watch what you call my baby girl!”  She jested, kneeling down and scooting between Logan and Pony.  Veronica leaned into Logan and turned her head to look up at him.  Logan’s pupils were blown out with lust and Veronica licked her lips in anticipation.  He didn’t keep her waiting; she felt his lips press firmly against hers.  His tongue swiping across the crease caused her to moan, giving him entrance.  Their kiss deepened and Logan wrapped his arms around Veronica tightly.

 

* * *

 

Sooner than he wanted, Logan broke their kiss and pulled Veronica up to her feet.  “Ready to show me all those new leash skills our _little_ girl has.”  Logan smiled warmly, trying to put their disagreement on the backburner for the moment.

With a grin Veronica took the leash, “Heel Pony.”

Pony moved her big gangly body next to Veronica and waited for her next command.

“Come on Echolls.  We don’t have all day.”  She was still smiling as she turned to start walking with Pony toward the trailhead.

Logan watched for a moment and then took a few big steps to catch up with them.  Pony walked next to Veronica like a champ.  Logan couldn’t help but admire them both.  He’d missed them so much over the last few months.   _Skype’s great, but it just doesn’t compare to being able to touch them, cuddle in bed with them, kiss… well kiss Veronica_ , he chuckled to himself.

“What’s so funny, flyboy?”  Veronica turned to look at Logan, a huge smile on her face.

Her smile turned to a look of shock as Pony took off toward the lake.  Veronica was pulled off balance and, before Logan could reach out for her or the leash, Pony was pulling Veronica down the short incline toward the ducks that were basking in the late morning sun.

“Pooony heeel!”  Veronica shrieked as Pony pulled her into the lake, ducks and geese fleeing in a shower of feathers.

Logan rushed after them and found himself waist deep in the lake before he reached Veronica and the leash.  He reached for the leash only to have Pony surge forward again and pull him fully into the water.

“Pony!  Heel!”  Logan and Veronica shouted in unison.  This seemed to get the giant puppy’s attention and she bounded back to them soaking wet and with a few feathers sticking to her face.  With Pony finally back under control, they headed back to shallower water.

“Um… Logan you know how I said Pony was great at the whole walking on a leash thing…” she laughed.

“Yes dear.  I remember quite clearly you telling me all about it.”

“I may have exaggerated Pony’s um… _proficiency_.”  

“You don’t say Sugarpuss?”  Logan snorted, clearly trying to contain his laughter.  He tried to blink away the water dripping into his eyes but quickly gave up and shook his head instead, eliciting giggles—actual giggles—from Veronica.

“Now I know who Pony inherited her grooming habits from.”

Despite Logan’s efforts, water continued to drip into his eyes as he looked at Veronica and Pony. Veronica’s thin tank tops weren’t leaving much to the imagination at this point.  And Pony looked so pleased with herself, ready to go bounding after another duck if they let their attention drift again.

“Come on, let’s get back to the car.  I think I left a couple of beach towels in the back.”  Veronica saw Logan leering at her, looked down and sighed; apparently realizing her mistake of only layering two tank tops.  “Stop it.  We’re in public.  Save that look for when we get back home to change.”  She winked at him.

“Actually, Veronica.  Before we go um…” Logan pushed his short, still dripping hair back, “maybe we can walk a little further and try talking again.  I know we’re both wet but…”

“I’m feeling a little exposed here,” she indicated her pebbled nipples.  “Can’t we talk later, babe?”

He’d heard ‘later’ too many times though, and as much as he wanted to get her home as quickly as possible, there were other pressing things to be dealt with.  He pulled his sopping wet Henley over his head, wrung it out the best he could and passed it to Veronica.  She accepted, and stared appreciatively at his bare chest, giving him that half smirk of hers as she pulled it over her head.

Veronica leaned down to rub Pony’s ears, “Daddy’s a brave man Pony.  Are you sure we have to talk about this, Logan?”

“Yes, we have to talk about this.”  Logan looked around and spotted a bench.  He reached for Pony’s leash and took Veronica’s hand.  “Come on, just hear me out.”

Logan settled Veronica on to the bench next to him and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in close, while Pony curled up at their feet.

“Let’s start over, okay?”  Logan could feel Veronica’s cheek rub against his bare chest as she nodded.  “We have some decisions to make about our future. “

“What does that mean?”  She said softly and without the edge her voice had held earlier in the car.

“It means I love you.  It means I want you to help me make this decision Veronica.  I don’t think we’ve ever talked about how important it is for my career that I get posts where I’m flying.”

Veronica gave him a confused look, “What do you mean?  You’re a pilot; why would they give you a job where you don’t fly?”

Logan placed a soft kiss on Veronica’s forehead.  He knew he should have explained this better before he’d left to replace ‘Bilbo.’  “It doesn’t always work that way.  Sometimes there aren’t openings, the timing is wrong, or you just aren’t good enough.  But to keep advancing on the career path I’m interested in I have to keep flying.  I was lucky for my shore tour.  I got to stay here and do flight diagnostics.  Do you remember when I explained about fitreps and how I’ve been getting good rankings?”

“I remember.”  Veronica replied softly her breath warm on his skin.

“Going back on ship early wasn’t just the right thing to do personally,” he hoped she remembered their talk on the beach before he left, “it was the right thing professionally, if I re-enlist.”

“ _If_ you re-enlist?”  Veronica said in a small voice.

“Yes, Veronica, if I re-enlist.  Like I tried to tell you earlier, this is a big decision.  There’s a lot to discuss.  I want you to be a part of this.”

“But it’s your career.”

“Yes, but my career impacts our lives.  What if my next posting is in Texas?  Or I get chosen to go to the War College?  I can request to be in San Diego but there are no guarantees, especially since we’re not married.  They won’t consider you at all when making my next assignment.”  He frowned at the thought; how was it that two most important things in his life could be so at odds?

“I can’t just move.  Wait, what are you saying?  Would they consider my career if we were… married?”

“Honestly, not very much but it can help.  And even if they offered me something here it might require that I take a non-aviator job.”  Logan leaned his cheek against the top of her head and pulled her in tighter trying to prepare himself.  “What if I had to move somewhere else?  If I reenlist, that is a very real possibility.  Maybe not immediately, but reenlisting is an eight year commitment and once that’s over I’d only be four years from the twenty mark.  You don’t drop your letter at that point.   That means that over the next few years I would probably have to relocate at least twice, that doesn’t include deployments, and who knows how many more times over the next twelve or so years.”

Veronica turned her face fully into his chest, her next words barely audible, more a vibration against his skin.  “What if you didn’t reenlist?”

“I have options.”  He brushed his hand up and down her back.  “Companies like Boeing hire guys like me, commercial airlines, stuff like that.”

“What do you want?”

“There are a lot of things I want.  I want to have a job I love.  I want to be home with you every night.  I want to help you finish leash training Pony.”  He laughed softly.  “I want our life.”

“I want that, too.”

“Well, that’s a start.  We don’t have to decide today but… Veronica, I need you to promise that we’ll keep talking about this.”

Veronica shifted her head back, meeting Logan’s eyes.  Her arms reached to wrap around his neck.  Logan could feel her nails dragging gently through his hair and the heat of her body even through the wet shirts.  He leaned down to meet her lips and pulled her into his lap.  The movement startled Pony out of her nap and broke the moment.

Veronica laughed at Logan’s disappointed sigh as she got to her feet.  She reached her hand out for his, “Let’s go home, order some takeout and continue this conversation.”  She closed her eyes and put her fingers to her temples, “I see a pro and con list of epic proportions in our future.”

With a big smile Logan took Veronica’s hand and spun her into his chest, “Yeah, epic.”


	6. Naughty Puppy, by Marshmallowtasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Setting: Post-MKAT

**Naughty Puppy**

**by Marshmallowtasha**

 

* * *

 

The front door slammed shut, causing Pony to take off barking down the hallway in greeting.  Veronica, down on all fours in the living room, looked up from her scrub brush and tried to move an escaped piece of hair from her face with a sharp “ppfftht.”  When that didn’t work and the hair gently and annoyingly brushed her eyes once more, she swiped at her face with her forearm and swallowed down the curse rising to her lips.  She didn’t think Logan would appreciate a homecoming full of swear words and caustic remarks, specially since he was already getting a sweaty tank top and ratty old yoga pants by way of greeting.

Based on the whining sounds that were now coming from the dog, Veronica could guess that Logan had probably given her a cursory rub behind the ears when he put down his luggage and then had ignored her as he came searching for his girlfriend.  He’d only been gone a week, but because he’d just gotten home from his deployment the month before and had to leave again so soon, Pony had been lashing out in the form of puddles on the carpet.   _Maybe I’ll pee on the carpet too the next time he leaves._

“I’m in here!” she called, since she was essentially invisible on the floor behind the couch.  She sat back on her heels and pulled off the rubber gloves that she’d donned for her cleanup job.  As Logan appeared down the hall, she started to stand but it took her a second to work through the stiffness in her knees.  She could hear her back crack as she moved.

“Marco!” Logan said with a smirk in his voice.

Veronica finally popped slowly out from behind the couch with a last _crikitty crack_ of her spine.  “Polo.  And I feel like him too.  He’d be, what, 900 years old or something?  That feels about right. I’m not made for all this manual labour.”

“Not that I have a problem with you waiting on your knees for me to arrive, Pumpkin, but if it’s easier for you to be waiting naked in the bedroom, I’m good with that too.” Logan, looking particularly scrumptious dressed casually in jeans and a charcoal Henley, was looked at her with a mix of heated smolder and amusement.  Veronica had to admit it was probably her favorite version of Logan, and she could feel the prior annoyance being replaced with something altogether different.

Veronica had been walking around the couch toward him to give him a proper greeting, but suddenly she lunged for the spray bottle on the side table.  Turning faster than her creaking body should have allowed, she shot off a few sprays of water at the spot behind the couch where she’d been just moments before.

“Don’t you dare, you little monster!” Pony came running out and took off toward the doggy door into the yard at the sound of her anger.

Raising an eyebrow in question at this scene, Logan commented drily, “I take it that you had a hard week.”

Veronica’s expression answered Logan better than any words could.  She was frustrated, exhausted and had reached her limit.  “You think?”  She returned the spray bottle to the table, but instead of continuing towards Logan to resume his homecoming, she stood there and crossed her arms.

Logan hadn’t survived his relationships with Veronica without learning a thing or two about her signals.  Not only that, but his Navy training had also honed his skills at reading potentially dangerous situations and extricating himself unharmed.  So armed, he cautiously approached her until he was inside her personal space but not touching her. Looking down at her with his most patient Training Officer expression, he said the only thing he could in this situation,

“Well, baby, to be fair, _you_ wanted to get a puppy.”

He watched with barely suppressed glee as her face flared up, eyes absolutely livid, and lurched away just in time as she went to punch him on the shoulder.  When he succeeded in dancing away from her, she quickly changed tactics and reached for the spray bottle once more.

“You jackass! Get back here!  I’ll show you what’s fair!” Cursing him out, she ran after him spraying him with all the water left in the bottle.

Logan ran away laughing, leading her to the kitchen where they found themselves in a deadlock on either side of the center island, the fridge and sink behind him and the door behind her.  The back of Logan’s shirt was soaking wet and dripping down the back of his jeans, but he didn’t care.  There was nothing he loved more than this version of Veronica standing in front of him – one part angry, one part amused and one part… _yesss_ … turned on.  Poking the dragon, he nodded toward the empty bottle and commented matter of factly, “Looks like you’re out of water.  Bummer.”

Scanning the kitchen quickly, a plan quickly formed in her mind and a sly grin appeared on her face.  Her eyes, already bright with their sparring, took on an intensity that made Logan shiver right down to his groin.  Slowly, Veronica moved to her right, stalking like a lioness, circling the island.  Instinctively, Logan moved to his left in what felt like an adult version of Ring Around the Rosy.

Her eyes never left his.  All of the anger had evaporated, leaving some amusement but mostly just lust. She licked her lips unconsciously.

His eyes could not look away; his dick twitched in anticipation.  He’d waited all week for this and was enjoying himself more than he’d thought possible.

Veronica stopped moving when they’d fully exchanged places.  Logan waited tense and unmoving to see what she would do next.  The next thing he knew, she was moving so fast that by the time he had registered that she had moved at all, he found himself staring down the end of the hose from the kitchen faucet.

It was Veronica’s turn to quirk her eyebrow.  “ _Bummer_ , was it?” She pressed the button under her thumb and proceeded to completely drench her boyfriend.

“Stop! V!  You’re soaking everything!” Logan sputtered.  Veronica whooped in response like a kid winning those clown squirt games at the fair. When she decided he’d had enough, she cut off the water and retracted the hose.

Turning around ready to claim victory, she stopped dead at the sight in front of her.  Logan was standing six inches away, water dripping down his face, hair unruly and Henley plastered to his body.  He was rigid with anticipation, so she could see the definition of his pecs and his biceps right through his shirt.  His eyes were smoldering.

_Jesus._

The word echoed in her mind, which had been wiped clean of all thought.  Her body, however, did not need her mind to tell her how to react; it hummed in response.  She took one small step forward, stopping just close enough so that the tips of her nipples, standing at attention, brushed his abs.  She raised her eyes to his and met his smolder with one of her own.

“Welcome home.”

She could just make out his, “Finally!” as his lips crashed into hers.


End file.
